This was already pre-written which is why it's being uploaded now... I'm back at Uni so I don't know how much I'll be able to write. Hope you all have good days!

It had been 3 days since Willow's all-nighter. She'd skipped her econ class, feeling only mildly guilty as the warm duvet stretched over her, snuggled warm and happy, only to be awoken an hour later by Buffy in some kind of fit about a missing shoe.

It's not funny Faith I'm going to be late for class!
Well maybe you should just stay here with me,
Faith I mean it….

Sometimes it still surprised Willow how different the two slayers were. Light and dark, reckless and level-headed, dangerous and reliable, yet they were so good together, in a way nobody could have predicted. Giles had been sure they'd crash and burn, it'll all end in tears I tell you, (not that he would admit that now.) And it was because they both had their hearts in the same place, both stubborn as hell, both determined and passionate, both independent, a perfect unit, self-sufficient. The watcher's council certainly would have had their hands full, if both slayers hadn't given them the brush off. Willow remembered the last watcher they'd sent, his raised eyebrows at their obvious relationship, (two slayers together was unprecedented at best, and highly unnerving for a watcher, they were each uniquely powerful, and combined they held more power than the council would have liked), his stuttering as they shut him down; they didn't need anybody to tell them what to do, thank you very much. Willow relished watching his face fall as the girls folded their arms, staring him down, their power over him evident in their raised eyebrows. Even Giles had to tread carefully. They both loved him though, even if they gave him a hard time sometimes. Sometimes he felt as if he'd skipped the infant stage and gone straight to having two teenage daughters. Quite the headache, a colleague had once said, and Giles had only shook his head, smiling. Dealing with his small brood of teenagers wasn't always easy, but he hadn't a doubt in his mind that he'd die for them, again and again if necessary. He grimaced steely; it wouldn't come to that. His biggest fear.

Willow smiled listening to Faith and Buffy's banter (the shoe was under the bed), the small morning routine. The early morning light fell through the window, dust and wonder floating in the air, and she felt that early feeling of hope, something new, as if she were standing on the edge of a whole new chapter. She was itching to see Tara again.

She went to class, she did her work, she met with Giles, she listened to Buffy talk about Faith, about the monster of the week. But she couldn't seem to focus. When she was supposed to be thinking about Benjamin Franklin all she could see was Tara's face, the bright beam of her eyes, the gentle lines of her speech. When Giles asked her if she knew of any locator spells, he had to ask her three times before she'd fully registered what he'd been saying. Giles had rolled his eyes, not quite with us today Will? Jenny had smirked. Something like that.

"Will! Will!"

"Yep, I'm here, present," she said, snapping out of her daydream to see Faith stood exactly in front of her, waving her hand, Buffy lingering behind her.

"You were somewhere else, Red."

"Sorry just preoccupied I guess," Faith looked concerned, and Buffy piped up from behind her,

"You okay Will? We can stay if you want," she said. And Willow took a proper look at the pair of them. They both were dressed up, Buffy's hair partially plaited around her head, a blue cotton dress falling from her shoulders, a silver charm necklace around her neck, one Giles had got her for Christmas if she remembered correctly, and a small charm bracelet Willow was sure was hers. She chose not to say anything, the earrings she was wearing were Buffy's after all. Faith was wearing the jacket, (she refused to take it off), with dark black skinny jeans and a dark red lipstick, Giles had known better than to give Faith a necklace, and instead had settled on new headphones, if Willow remembered rightly. They looked nice. They were clearly going out, probably a delayed anniversary meal. Truth be told she hadn't really been listening, and she only felt a little bit guilty about it.

"No, you go, have fun, I'm fine," she said, sitting back up and propping her textbook back up, Psychology 101, "I've got all the friends I need," she said, motioning to the textbook but her heart wasn't really in it.

Buffy furrowed her brow, "Well if you're sure, but we're talking tonight, no escaping it," she joked.

"Sure thing," Willow said, turning back to her book, missing Buffy's concerned expression as Faith pulled her out the door, her feathered earrings flying.

The research of different psychologists is designed with different goals in mind, and the different goals require different approaches. These varying approaches, summarized in Table 2.2, are known as research designs. A research design is the specific method a researcher uses to collect, analyze, and interpret data. Psychologists use three major types of research designs, and each provides an essential avenue for scientific investigation.

Willow sighed, pausing her Studying #4 mixtape. She really couldn't focus. The sky was turning orange outside the window, mellowing into the night. Maybe it was sad to make a mixtape for yourself. Or maybe it was productive. Willow liked routine, liked to sit at the same desk, liked her overhead lamp at the right angle, her same old pen, the same pack of highlighters, a perfect system (orange for facts, yellow for interesting points, green for something she wanted to research further, and she liked to annotate in her same blue gel pen.), she liked her studying playlists and her desk chair always at the same height. She liked to see the night stretch out the window, to sense the hours passing, productively, a sense of achievement. But it wasn't working for her tonight, the time was passing, but it was all wrong, she wasn't being productive, she couldn't even get beyond the first paragraph.

She felt a ball of frustration inside her chest as she tapped her pen against the desk, staring at the pictures on Buffy's bedside table. One of her, Xander, and Buffy soon after they met Buffy, in what she supposed would be called 'the high school years' in a biography of their lives. It was weird to think of it as a period that was over, finished, to think that they were now in 'the college years'. Time passed weirdly. Next to that same picture was one of Buffy and Giles at 'graduation' if one could call it that, they were both covered in mud and blood, but Buffy was wearing a cap and holding her diploma, and Giles was grinning like a proud parent, so Willow supposed that was as close to normal as you could get when you were in the Scooby gang. Then, there was a picture of Faith and Buffy, from not too long ago, both of them laughing, sitting on a picnic blanket in the middle of the beach, on one of Giles' 'we will act like a normal family, despite the odds' days, they'd gone in the summer, had a barbecue, jumped in the waves, all the things one could do if one was not a monster hunter for the day. Willow had taken the picture. The pair of them laughing, holding hands, looking the most in love of anybody ever. She smiled, remembering how Giles had accidentally proposed on the way home, the ring falling out of his jacket.

Well the car's not the most romantic location, he'd said, fumbling the ring in his hand.
You know it doesn't matter to me. A grin and a kiss.

Officially a wicked stepmother now huh, Xander had quipped, earning a glare from Giles (and a laugh from the rest of them.)

Willow was pulled out of her thoughts by a knock at the door. Her chest jumped a little, was it Tara? Had she found her? Was she interested after all? There was a little light in what was previously dim.

When she opened the heavy wooden door, there was a girl standing there, a bright, fake smile plastered across her face, a long denim skirt, and earrings that boasted the Wiccan symbol.

"Oh," she said, stepping back a little, the smile falling from her face.

"Not too disappointed I hope?" the girl quipped, clutching a pile of pink flyers.

"No, not at all." Willow faked a smile to match.

"I'm recruiting for the on-campus Wicca group." She said, handing Willow a flyer.

"W-Wicca group?" Willow said, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah you know, like witchcraft." She smiled,

"Yeah I actually practice," Willow said, feeling weird to be having this conversation in the harsh light of the hallway, like two worlds colliding. She scanned her eyes over the flyer.

Do you feel the systematic oppression of the patriarchy? Do you want to let your inner goddess flourish? Do you want to feel empowered?

Willow noticed the absence of actual magic on the flyer. She rolled her eyes, she guessed it was that kind of Wiccan group then.

"So I'll see you there then? Thursdays at 8." The girl said, pointing to the flyer with her trademark fake grin.

"Yeah, sure," Willow said, still feeling a little dazed. It certainly was different to high school, nobody there would have come up to her and openly discussed magic. She was once again reminded of the past-tense nature of high school. Time moved weirdly. She felt at odds with her own self. She looked down at the flyer again; it didn't exactly seem as if potions and spell-casting would be on the agenda. She shaked her head, the witchcraft movement was becoming so mainstream. She would probably laugh about this with Jenny later. She was definitely glad to have Jenny. There was no way she could ever talk to her actual mother about half the things she did with Jenny, and it felt nice to have a kind of maternal support, the way Buffy did. Someone to have your back. She smiled.

Wait- witchcraft. Tara. She grinned, maybe if she went - she would see Tara. The thought filled her with warmth and she grinned. Thursday. Two days. She could wait that long. She looked back at her books, what to do until then? Suddenly time seemed infinite, the clock slowing to a near stop. Time moved weirdly.

"So this is a bit of an impromptu trip," Xander said, clutching the largest bucket of popcorn Willow had ever seen. Willow had ditched her studies for a cinema date with Xander, she felt like some much needed best-friend time. Maybe it was too much thinking about high school, maybe it was the sudden slowing-down of time, or maybe Xander was just her oldest and closest friend and right now she needed someone whose opinion of her wasn't changeable.

"We're best friends," she grinned, "didn't think I'd have to schedule you."

"No, no," Xander smiled, "it's really good to see you, it's been too long." He grinned, "So what's new in Willow-ville,"

"Umm not much," Willow said, looking down and fiddling with her fingers, her voice becoming slightly higher. Xander looked at her with concern, but sensing the tension decided not to bring it up.

"Still having to vacate the room?" he smirked.

"Yeah," Willow said, "until Faith gets her new place,"

Xander raised his eyebrows, "this elusive new place, I'm willing to bet you it doesn't really exist."

Willow hit him on the arm, "Don't say that!"

"Hey popcorn danger, Will, you nearly made me spill it!"

"Sorry," she smirked, "but really it's not that bad, makes me study at the library, and besides I like Faith."

"Of course, so do I, but sometimes you've got to stand up for your space," he grinned, "that's what I'm still petitioning for this lock on my door, I'm a man now, I need privacy,"

"She still walking in on you and Anya?" Willow laughed,

"Only all the time, I'm starting to think she does it on purpose,"

Willow laughed, remembering her own dad's strict refusal to let her have sleepovers with Xander as a child, not understanding that boys and girls were capable of being just friends (as if 'friends' was somehow the consolation prize and not the main event). She remembered the lies, it's Janice's dad, and Xander pretending to be his mum on the phone, before they stayed up late eating ice cream and watching re-runs of the fresh prince of bell-air.

"You okay Will? You've gone quiet." Xander said, his eyes filled with concern.

Time ran between them like a river, they were bound now, those memories bound them together for better or worse, for awkward glances across the car park or weekly meetings at the coffee house to take about their latest escapades. She took a deep breath.

Xander knew her. He knew everything about her. He was her best friend.

"I'm going through a b-bit of a hard time," she said, quickly, "since Oz left it's been h-hard you know, college is hard and a life-defining experience, and I just feel as if I'm not really living my life,-" Xander took her hand gently, and smiled, "and it's hard to be alone you know, especially with Buffy and Faith and you and Anya and Giles and Jenny,- n-not that I'm complaining!" she added hurriedly, "I'm just in a weird space I guess and I think, well I also, I'm not sure but, I don't really know how to say this but well I t-think I'm kind of gay." Willow stared down at the grey carpet, and the intricate weaving, the small pieces of popcorn lodged in the folds, the poor guy dressed all in red with his useless dustpan and brush, trying to scrape up what some kids had purposefully thrown, seeing the same film, for the third time in a row, and wishing-

Xander squeezed her hand, pulling her from her thought spiral. She looked up to see him smiling at her.

"It's okay, Will, all of it." He pulled her towards him, hugging her and resting his head on the top of hers, like old times. And she could see a reflection of every version of her and Xander that existed, an echo of themselves. Her and Xander, three years old playing in the Wendy house, you're dad and I'm mom, but I want to be the dog!, her and Xander, seven years old, playing hopscotch and curb ball and hide and seek in the neighbourhood, ten years old sitting on the swings, time as slow as treacle, every night as long as the world itself. Echoes of themselves, all of the threads that tied them together.

"I'm glad you told me, you know you can come to me with anything," he said softly, and Willow felt a tear in her eye, as she reached out to hold his hand again,

"I know,"

And then the trailers started, and everything was the same again. Just two friends, watching a film, Willow resting her head on Xander's shoulders, and stealing half his popcorn.

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